


The Definition of Bliss

by voleuse



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-02-21
Updated: 2004-02-21
Packaged: 2017-10-09 04:26:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/83045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voleuse/pseuds/voleuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two women meet in a bar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Definition of Bliss

**Author's Note:**

> S2, spoilers up to "Dear Boy."

Kate's rethinking the double shot of tequila when she notices the blonde entering the bar.

It's a semi-classy joint, and the blonde looks semi-classy herself, with a haircut screaming salon and a pricey blouse undone a button too many.

She's out of range for the entire bar, which despite the piano still falls on the wrong side of seedy, so Kate's a little surprised when she sways her way to the bar.

"This seat taken?"

"Uh." Kate stares at a moment, the liquor slowing her usual response time. She's eye-level with some fairly impressive cleavage, and she pulls out of her reverie to notice an amused smirk on the blonde's face. "Sorry. No, go ahead. Seat's yours."

"Thanks," she replies, and hops onto the stool. Gestures to the bartender. "I'll have what she's having."

The Cuervo arrives two minutes faster than Kate's did, and it disappears just as quickly. Kate smiles, impressed, and orders another round.

"So," she opens, trying to redeem the inordinate amount of gazing into the blonde's cleavage, "my name's Kate."

The blonde smiles, downs another shot. "DeEtta. DeEtta Kramer."

"Nice to meet you." Kate takes another shot, grimaces at the burn. "Not to sound clichèd, but what's a nice woman like yourself doing in a place like this?"

DeEtta frowns, starts to speak, then sighs.

Kate winces. "Sorry, I shouldn't have--"

A slim hand slides over hers, and Kate stutters to a halt.

"It's my husband," DeEtta says. "Stephen. He's not," she pauses. "He's a good man, but we don't see eye to eye about the same things."

"Like what?"

"Well," DeEtta's hand slides against Kate's again, slowly. "It's not our eyes that lack compatibility."

"Oh." Kate swallows another shot of tequila. "Oh."

"Yes." DeEtta's hand flutters away, and she finishes her tequila with a quick toss. "We got married too young, before I realized," she trails off.

"I'm sorry." Kate's head is buzzing now, and she reaches out, eases a hand over DeEtta's shoulder. "Is there anything I can do?"

She looks up from her empty glass, one glance scorching Kate through. "Do you know where the bathroom is?"

Kate nods, numbly, and stands. DeEtta does the same, and their barstools scrape loudly against the wooden floor. Kate gestures vaguely to the back, and leads the way. She can feel DeEtta's eyes, trailing down her back, and shivers.

The bathroom is clean, comfy, and mercifully empty. Kate's not sure if she could have nerved an occupied room, and she sinks into the sofa with a sigh.

"This is nice." DeEtta locks the door. Bolts it. "Looks kind of like a department store bathroom."

"Best reason for coming to this bar." Kate tries to speak evenly, but DeEtta's already shrugging her blouse off, and she's not sure how to keep her cool in the face of nudity.

"Do you go to other kinds of bars?" Skims her hands over her bra, pale against burgundy.

Kate gulps. "Yeah. After work, the guys all go to a sports bar, but I don't go too much anymore. Once in a while, I go to clubs--loud music, desperate singles sort of places."

DeEtta kicks her heels off, pads across the room in just her stockings. "Why not tonight?"

"The, um, bar," and DeEtta climbs onto the sofa, braces knees on either side of her lap. "The bar reminds me too much of my dad, and the clubs...are for work."

DeEtta ever-so-slowly begins unbuttoning Kate's blouse. "What do you do?"

"I'm a cop." Kate arches against hands, sliding over her throat, her breasts, her belly, and settling around the waist of her jeans.

"You go to clubs as a cop?"

"Yeah," Kate gasps. "One case. Met a really fucked-up guy and," DeEtta's hand is squeezing under her waistband, fingers clever and quick and, "God!"

DeEtta grins. "Enough talking."

Then her hand is gone, and Kate's cold, and DeEtta is sashaying across the carpet again. She perches on the faux-marble counter, knees wide. "Would you?" Her eyes are wide and pleading, and her tongue darts out, quick, against her lips.

Kate nods, stumbles after her, urges her hands over DeEtta's thighs, and finds nothing underneath the tailored skirt but a garter belt. Ducks her head, pushes the skirt up, and laps.

DeEtta's response is immediate, and loud, and Kate chuckles against her flesh. It's been a while since she's done this, but she used to do it well.

Apparently, she still can.

It seems like only a few minutes, tongue licking and plunging, before DeEtta bucks against Kate's mouth. Her moans sound strangled in her throat, and her nails dig into Kate's scalp with abandon.

Kate works through the pain, and moments later, another orgasm hits DeEtta, and her heel rubs against Kate's back in circles. Kate draws back and watches as DeEtta slumps, hair mussing against the mirror. DeEtta blinks down at Kate, and one of her hands idly stirs on her breast, fingers tucked under the lace and elastic. Her skirt is rucked about her waist, and one of her feet is propped on the counter.

Kate has never wanted anyone more.

DeEtta stretches, arms curving long and lazy, and then she's on the carpet next to Kate, and her lips on Kate's own. Her tongue darts like a viper, and Kate yelps when DeEtta's hand drifts into her panties again, delving deeply.

"Holy--" Kate had forgotten what it was like to have someone else's hands on her, and she grabs at DeEtta's shoulders desperately as her hips jerk arrhythmically. "Don't, _oh_, don't stop. God!"

DeEtta's eyes glitter darkly, and her fingers _twist_, and her mouth descends on Kate's breast, and it's been too long since Kate's done this, and

"_Fuck_!"

Kate clutches DeEtta fiercely, and doesn't let go for several moments. Slouches against the other woman with a groan.

DeEtta's up and dressing before Kate can fully recover. "I, I have to go home."

Kate sits back. "What?"

"Stephen." DeEtta buttons her blouse efficiently, all the way to the collar. "He'll be waiting for me. He thinks I'm still at work."

"Oh."

DeEtta pauses while slipping her shoes back on. "It's not," and she kneels, "It's not you. I just...We're still trying to talk things out, and he wouldn't understand this." She kisses Kate, smiles, then kisses her again.

Kate sighs, and buttons up her own blouse, rezips her jeans. "I understand."

"Thank you." DeEtta unlocks the door, stops before exiting. "This was...fun."

And then she's gone.

Kate shakes her head, looks at herself in the mirror. Chalks this up to experience, and resolves not to regret it.

It's not like she'll ever see DeEtta again, anyway.

*

 

Darla smirks as she exits the bar, and the night air is balmy against her skin. Her cell phone rings, and she snaps it open with glee. "Stephen, honey?"

"Very funny, Darla." Lindsey chuckles, and it sounds tinny in her ear. "How'd it go?

"She was there, just like you said."

"Detective Lockley is easy to predict sometimes." He pauses. "What did you tell her?"

"What we went over, Lindsey."

"You told the detective about your unhappy marriage?"

Darla laughs, giddy in the moonlight. "Something like that."


End file.
